—summary: The summer heat has you slipping between sleep and reality. Something not-so corporeal helps you cool off.
—warnings: ghost x human, monsterfucking, piv sex, mirror sex (technically), creampie, dubcon/somnophilia.
—word count: 1,3k
—a/n: no thoughts just horny. also on AO3
The best thing about living alone, you’ve come to realize, is the privacy. You’re free to do whatever: take your time in the bathroom in the morning or whenever you want, spend an eternity soaking in the claw-footed tub this house came with, walk around your home in the skimpiest clothing imaginable (not only does it help to beat the summer heat, it also (technically) leaves you less laundry to do), splay out on your king-sized bed in a starfish position, limbs akimbo, drag the full-length mirror in your bedroom in front of your bed and stare at the way any dildos you own get swallowed up by your greedy cunt.
No point in wondering why the last owner was in such a rush to get rid of it; so much so that he accepted well below market price for a freshly renovated, fully-furnished house with a moderate backyard in a relatively safe neighborhood.
The longer this heatwave lasts, the skimpier your clothes get. There’s barely any fabric to cling to your constantly sweat-slick skin by this point, just a tiny skirt hiked so far up your bare skin touches the wooden chairs when you sit and a shirt that’s more spaghetti straps than torso. The huge, double-door fridge is a reprieve, cool air billowing out and caressing your heated skin. It almost feels like a genuine caress, like someone’s cool hands sliding down your body.
Seriously, you need to get out of the house and meet people instead of fantasizing about the cool touch of your fridge. But the outside is infinitely hotter than the inside.
You kick the bedsheet away from your body, grumbling at the lingering day heat. You’d stripped the sheet from the duvet the moment spring chill had plunged into summer heat and stuffed the latter into the closet until fall. Even then, you tend to wake up without the sheet in the morning, finding it crumbled on the floor. Yesterday was another sweltering day. It has left the air stuffy and the fans only push the warm, stale heat around without providing any relief. You unplug them in a fit of frustration and cringe at the feeling of moisture when you lay against your pillow again.
Sleep doesn’t completely evade you but you’re not fully asleep, either. You think so, at least. There are moments of brief blackouts, where you open your eyes and turn to look at the time only to find not even an hour has passed. Your eyelids feel heavy.
Then, there are the hands on your body. Caressing, petting, groping. They’ve been there for some time now, just touching, feeling. They’re not cold, just cool enough to feel pleasant against your heated skin and inject some relief into your sluggish thoughts of sun and heat. A sigh escapes your lips at the sensation. Fingertips trance the expanse of your skin, draw constellations between your moles and freckles. The other hand moves to rest on your breast. It kneads the soft flesh, gently pinches your nipple between its fingers, runs a thumb over it.
You inhale sharply, heart thrumming in your chest, pressing your thighs together. It does little to quell the desire for friction, or touch. The hand tracing its fingertips down your body reaches your hip, then skirts across your flesh to rest on the inside of your thigh. You blink languidly; the heat is stifling, your head feels thick.
Cool fingers dip between your legs, press against your clit like — like they’re what? Testing the waters. You stifle the half-baked moan in the back of your throat.
The hands leave you all at once and you croak out a sound that doesn’t even sound like you, desperate and needy. They’re back not even a moment later, though, heavy on your hips as if they’re trying to guide you. You reach for a pillow and prop it under yourself. It’s a nice dream, you don’t need it to end because it forces you into an uncomfortable position that drives home the realization that it’s a dream. Because then you’ll wake up, alone again.
Something thick and heavy rests on your pelvis. Maybe this makes you a bad sex partner in this brief dream but you don’t want to reach out and touch it, guide it. If it’s your dream, your partner should know the where and how. The cool hands planted firmly on your hips pull you forward just slightly and the weight from your pelvis disappears. It rests against your entrance, but doesn’t push forward just yet. One hand leaves you and the tip of its cock drags through your slick folds, bumps against your clit.
“Please,” you croak, staring at the ceiling. Your throat is dry.
The stranger’s cock angles itself against your entrance and pushes in carefully. You take a slow, deep breath in, try to relax around the pleasant intrusion. The hands — under your knees now, guiding your legs apart. A body presses against your thighs. Whoever it is, stops, pauses for a moment. You clench around the cock buried in your cunt. A cold, shuddering breath hits you. Goosebumps rise on your skin. The hands push your knees further apart until there’s an ache in your muscles, and then they depart, one finding a spot on your waist, the other your breast.
It moves, then. The cock nestled deep within you sharply pulls back and thrusts in again. You scramble for anchor, to grab onto something but all you come up with is sheet that tugs loose. Their pace is dizzying, thighs slapping against yours, cock plunging into your wet cunt. The sound is so wet and lewd and goddamned loud in the still silence of your home. You go to stifle the half-moan half-groan in your throat but— wait, it’s your house, your dream, who gives a fuck about the neighbors? The cock in your cunt pulls nearly all the way out and thrusts in again and hits that spot, so good, dragging against your slick walls and you swear you feel every groove and dip, every goddamn vein. Your moan slips out involuntarily, and whoever it is here with you, seems invigorated.
The hand on your breast leaves, a forearm rests around your thigh, pulling it up and — fuck, their cock drives in so incredibly deep you nearly choke on your own spit. You scramble upwards, resting your weight on your elbows to look at your partner —
There’s no one there. Your bedroom is empty. But there’s a hand on your torso, cool fingers digging into your flesh and a forearm supporting your thigh and the shape of someone’s shoulder against your Achilles’ tendon. There’s a cock plunging into your cunt and you hear someone’s labored breathing.
The full-length mirror skids across the laminated floor and stops in front of your bed. Something invisible is thrusting into your pussy, gaping back at you in the reflection. Your face burns — your whole body burns. You can’t look away from the debauchery staring back at you. Whoever — whatever — it is, thrusts harshly, cold hands pulling you against their body. Your thighs are wet and sticky, slamming against theirs, your hole gaping back at you, being abused by something you can’t see. It sends you hurtling over the edge.
You come around the phantom cock with something reminiscent of a shriek and a moan and terror and pleasure all combined. Your cunt clenches around the thing your muscles sore and sweat beading on your skin. The cock plunges into you again and again and again and you blink back the tears and the fear and the overwhelming pleasure. The fingers on your body dig into your flesh and the cock nestled in you buries deep, thighs pressing against your own, and spills. It’s so warm, so pleasant. The mirror skids closer, right until it touches the edge of the bed.
Your cunt is forced wide open. Stuffed. The pearlescent cum coats your walls, oozes out from inside you, dribbles onto your bedsheets. The cock in you stays there but the body moves.
A small fogged patch, like warm breath, appears on the mirror, and then, letters.
Imagine getting fucked by a ghost or an invisible force in front of a mirror. There’s nothing you can do but feel and see your gaping pussy. The best part is that you never know when they’re going to fuck you again since you can’t see them <3
The ghost in your house who takes care of your sexual needs.
He sees you when you’re at your most desperate. Scrolling looking for a video or something to read to relieve the ache. Once you reach for your toys he springs into action.
Already unclothed, he touches your bare pussy. Rubbing circles on your clit. You can’t see him, so you’re just anticipating what’s going to happen.
You continue to scroll and periodically glancing to your mirror to see yourself. He continues to touch you. Seeing what you’re looking at he does his best to replicate it. Spreading your pussy open with his fingers to eat you out.
Squeezing and sucking on your breasts, leaving marks that you can’t explain to anyone else. Fingering you and curling his fingers to hit all the good spots.
Seeing yourself spread and gaping from the invisible man just turns you on more. Letting this mysterious ghost pleasure you.
CW: RAPE/NON-CON, ghost sex, mirror sex, face slapping, face fucking, no lube, no prep, public sex, crying
Standing in the desolate changing cubical, the quietness was deafening as you smoothed over the fabric of the outfit you were trying out. A last minute invite meant a last minute urgent to any nearby clothing store you can find, hoping to score something suitable for the occasion. Turning this way and that to see how it looked and feels, sighing after deciding it didn't seem right as messaging that you weren't going. Looking back into the cubicle mirror you notice a crinkle on the fabric, like someone was holding it in their grasp, but you couldn't feel not see anyone there, and the changing rooms were all empty when you entered, not even an employee in sight.
Going to turn around, you pushed forward against the mirror, face turned sideways and eyes franticly trying to find someone or something in the small space, trying to find whoever or whatever is doing this. But still nothing, you shake and shiver as a set of invisible hands start to undo the fabric from your body, letting it bunch up and fall to the floor, leaving you bear and exposed. Still, the hands wonder, over your skin and down your sides and towards your hole, squeezing your hips and ass. Shaking your head as you plead the thing to leave you alone slip from your lips, unsure if it can actually hear you, you freeze up as you feel as second pair of hands akin to the first around your neck as the ones around your hips pulls you downwards, hard, causing you to fall to the ground with a sicking pop of your joints.
The hands around your neck disappear and the sensation of them squeezing your cheeks together and prying your mouth open is enough to bring tears to your eyes as they widen in fear, one set of fingers digging into your mouth and presses down on your tongue while another presses into your hole with a dry and rough pace and pressing against that sweet spot inside you. The fingers in your mouth reach back far, causing you to gag only to pull out and be replaced but a much thicker and girthier object that reaches the back of your throat again and again, each time it slides back into your mouth, you feel a solid wall hit your face and again and again as you struggle to breath. Your eyes roll back into your skull as the oxygen leaves your lungs
The same object enters your hole, quickly opening you up in one swift motion with the same dry and rough pace as before. Back and forth they move, your brain finally catches up to you, and that’s when you realize the things inside of you are cocks. Two, thick monstrous cocks splitting you open on both end, with no seeming concern for your wellbeing or safety. Seeking out their own pleasure from your own body.
Your vision starts to blacken when the entity in front pulls out, you think it’s giving you mercy as you cough up spit and what seems like pre-cum, but it's hard to tell, head hung low as you take in deep gulps of fresh air, your head swimming and eyes fuzzy, you think the beings are going to show mercy as the one behind slows. Only you were quickly proven wrong, a rough tug on your hair and a sharp slap across your face, again and again, each cheek turning bright red and stained with tears, before the invisible cock was shoved down your throat again. They want you awake for this. Why? You couldn't think of why.
You can see yourself in the mirror, mouth agape and lips swollen, jutting back and forth from the constant pulling from each unseen being, both wanting you to themselves, treating you like a toy to fight over. Through blurry vision you see your ruined look, thoroughly fucked out and used, messy hair and teary eyes, bruised and sore skin. Muffled whines and gargled moans fill the room, a pained groan echoes out as the two beings empty themselves deep inside you, a salty yet cold substance coats your tongue and slides down your throat. Yet they don’t release you, stilling briefly before sliding out and switching back places, you take it as a moment of peace, to greedy take as much air as you can back in to your lungs, to try and process what is happening before they slide back in, using the goo-like substance left behind prior as lube. Not ready to leave or show mercy until they were satisfied.
Ever since you felt his hand wrapped around your throat, the ghost had been the only fantasy you'd gotten off to. You weren't even really trying to get out at night to maybe meet someone, anymore. Even if you tried to imagine something else, one of your old favorite celebrity fantasies or something, once you got started all you could imagine was what it would feel like to be the woman he's holding down on that bed. And wondering, since his hand was so clearly visible and so firm around your throat, if you'd be able to feel his cock just as well...
[cw: implied previous non-con of someone not present in the scene; cnc themes]
You'd been counting down the days to the next full moon, and making plans. You remembered it looked like he pulled up a skirt, so you thought, maybe... Maybe if you lie down on the bed earlier than he usually gets to the room, he might...?
That thought stuck with you, so when you next went clothes shopping, and found a skirt with a hem a little below your knees on sale cheap, you impulsively bought it. Long skirts weren't usually your thing, but you felt like it might work better if you were dressed the part.
You also went looking for an old skeleton key, because the door was always locked except when the ghost was there, and the owner hadn't given you a key. You were afraid to ask for one - what would you say you wanted it for?? - but a skeleton key is a skeleton key, right? You ended up buying three different ones from local antique shops until you found one that fit in the lock.
You wanted to be in the bed already before he got there and unlocked the door, because you weren't sure he'd be able to grab you and toss you on the bed like he did to his unseen partner. But you had a pretty good idea of how the woman had been laying, where he'd been thrusting into the quilt, and you were pretty sure you'd fit into the space just fine. All your plans in place, you just had to wait for the moon.
When the night of the full moon finally arrived, the skirt and key had been hanging on your closet door for more than a week. You stripped off your pants first, pulling the skirt on instead, and then decided to pair it with a deep v neck tee with no bra underneath. You weren't sure you had seen him grope the woman, because she hadn't been visible, but, well. Just in case. After pulling that on, you bit your lip and then pulled off your panties and tossed them in the hamper - they'd only get in the way. But it made you nervous to take them off, and vulnerable in a way that honestly only turned you on more.
Then you left your bedroom and walked up the stairs, every step making you extremely aware how exposed you were. It was a little chilly, but it wasn't just the cold raising goosebumps on your arms and hardening your nipples.
You stopped in front of the locked door, hesitating for a moment. Were you really going to do this? Wasn't this kind of crazy? But the wetness between your legs made the decision for you, and you turned the key in the lock, and entered the room.
Twilight hadn't quite faded, but the moon was bright in the window, and you felt even more exposed, even though none of the other houses nearby had a third story, so no one could really see in the window. You laid down on the bed carefully, as though any sound might give you away, though rationally there was no way anyone would hear.
And then you waited. It had been hard to wait downstairs, you'd been so afraid you'd be too late somehow, but waiting up here in the semi dark was somehow even worse. You'd laid down intentionally with your legs spread, but after only about ten minutes you'd closed them out of nervousness, telling yourself you'd just open them back up when he opened the door.
You knew the haunting usually started about two and a half hours after sunset, but you'd come up here almost an hour early, and waiting in the dark was torture. You started touching yourself over the skirt a little to try and ease the tension, but without the panties beneath it you just felt even more exposed. Maybe if you'd brought a vibrator - but no, you didn't want to cum before the ghost even got here. So you continued to wait, and tried not to squirm too much.
When you finally heard the creak in the hall, you startled and then bit your lip, forcing yourself to calm down as you widened your legs again.
As he opened the door, you watched his eyes scan the room, and then watched as he grabbed someone who wasn't there, and slammed them down into the bed - right where you were. His hand hit the center of your chest, hard, and his touch was freezing cold. He kept his weight on you, heavy pressure, as he got up unto the bed. You could almost make out some of the words he was saying, too, this time - his voice was just barely audible as he growled "whore" and then something like "teach you a lesson".
That sent a shiver down your spine - you'd assumed it was just rough sex with a lover - had he been raping her? Still though, you were here on purpose and he was only a ghost, doing the same thing every full moon - he didn't deviate from it, and couldn't actually hurt you. Probably. The dangerous edge just made it more hot though, as he unbuckled his pants, and then, yes, pushed up the skirt you were wearing.
You hadn't been sure he actually could move fabric, but as his icy hands moved up your thighs you couldn't help but arch a little into his touch, and then gasp as he slapped between your legs, hitting your already very sensitive clit, before returning his hand to your chest, fingers digging into one of your breasts as he gripped it tightly and held you down, using his other hand to part your folds and guide himself inside.
You moaned as he entered you, just as thick as you'd been hoping, almost too long for you to handle, and so cold it burned. He was snarling words again, in that same vicious tone, and even though you couldn't make out many of the words, you could feel his rage and his roughness, and it only made you wetter.
He switched to holding down both of your arms, and you could actually hear his cock smacking into your wet cunt with each thrust. You weren't even trying to hold back your moans anymore, as he thrusted wildly, fast and deep, rutting into you without holding back. His grip your arms was so tight it felt like they might actually bruise.
As you got closer and closer to the edge, you squirmed a little, trying to get the angle juuuust right... And then three more thrusts and you were almost shrieking as you came, the intensity of his grip, the vicious words and facial expressions, the icyness of his cock, and the way he was slamming into your clit and rocketing up past your g-spot, not to mention the weeks of anticipation, all combining to give you what was probably the most intense orgasm of your life.
And just after you hit the peak, there was a sound, and he turned and grabbed someone, just where you'd been last time, his hand wrapped around your throat, and though he'd stilled for the moment, you could feel him throbbing within in, and that combined with the memory of being choked set off another orgasm, an aftershock of the first one, but still enough to leave you breathless.
Then you heard sudden steps and the firework sound, and above you his face went slack and he crumpled. As he fell he turned to mist and dissipated, dissolving rather than pulling out, leaving you all alone suddenly in the dark room; the only sound was your labored breathing.
The firework was a gunshot then, probably, you thought to yourself. Damn. So he was replaying the moment of his death. You had kind of mixed feelings about that - on the one hand, if he had been raping the woman... Well. You certainly couldn't blame someone for shooting him. But you were also... Sort of glad? Because it meant you had your own personal spectral rape fantasy - real enough to touch but not so real you were actually in danger - every full moon.
Opening a portal beyond the veil because you’re horny, but you fall asleep and forget to close it. As a result, dozens of spirits pour into your bedroom to fuck the whore who invited them in. And you’re getting used so thoroughly that you can’t even manage to close the portal again. Just a permanent fucksleeve for any ghost that finds you adorable enough to take.~
Also me: into being treated like a doll, which has no health issues at all because it is a doll and newly developed a ghost kink (particularly the idea of a ghost possessing me and taking over my body and k*lling me)
